


Forget Me Not

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, with a side of aziraphle being dense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: Crowley has a tendency to create flowers whenever he's around Aziraphale.AKA five times Crowley manifested flowers for Aziraphale and the one time Aziraphale manifested flowers for Crowley





	1. Gloxinia

All the days had been nice, and not even the thunder off in the distance could persuade Crowley that this day was any different. He had done his job, and had done it well, and had even met a peculiar angel afterward. Peculiar in the sense that he gave his sword away to some humans and seemed to be a little unsure of himself and heaven’s plans. 

He was also kind of cute but Crowley wasn’t really paying attention to that.

The first bits of rain started to fall and Aziraphale had sheltered Crowley under his wing, which was something no one’s really done for him before. 

“Ought to take shelter,” Aziraphale said, looking up at the clouds. 

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, looking over at the angel’s face. 

Aziraphale gave him a tight smile and the two left together, Crowley following after Aziraphale to the steps even though it would have been faster to slither down the side. The rain picked up in gusto as they approached the garden, but the canopy of trees offered them enough protection.

“Guess we’d better get on with our jobs, then,” Aziraphale said, fidgeting a bit. “Gate won’t guard itself, you know. And I’m sure you have lots of...demon work to be done.”

Crowley nodded but he wasn’t really listening. He was too busy being distracted by the new crop of flowers that were growing around them. He did have a strange affinity for creating new plants when his mind was distracted, but these were something more glorious and beautiful than he could ever come up with. He wondered if someone else was around making them.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, mouth opening slightly as he turned this way and that, watching the garden space around them fill with the colors and delicate curls of the petals. “These are new.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, scratching at his head a bit.

“Did you make them?”

Crowley started to say no, but he caught a glimpse of the angel’s expression and couldn’t speak. Aziraphale was looking at him expectantly, his features soft, his eyes full of wonder. The flowers continued to bloom so Crowley just nodded at him.

“They’re quite beautiful,” Aziraphale said. He reached out and gently rubbed one of the purple ones. “What do you call them?”

Crowley’s brain had had time to restart since catching Aziraphale’s gaze. He cleared his throat. “Gloxinia,” he said. 

“Gloxinia,” Aziraphale repeated, his voice soft. He smiled at the flowers, breathed in their scent.

“You could take some,” Crowley blurted out. “If you want.”

“Oh? Really?” Crowley nodded and Aziraphale plucked out a few, one of each color, till he had a little rainbow of the flowers in his hands. “Thank you.”

“Right, well, uh, I’ll be off then,” Crowley said, feeling his cheeks blush a bit. “Demon business, you know.” 

He turned around quickly, unable to stand in the presence of the angel anymore. He ran off, leaving Aziraphale standing by the wall, smiling and smelling his new bouquet.


	2. Red Rose-Single Full Bloom

“Right then,” Crowley said, a smile plastered on his face. “It’s agreed.”

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale fidgeted a bit, looking everywhere about the forest they were in other than at Crowley. “I suppose it’s not all that terrible if I did some work while I was away.” Aziraphale coughed a bit. “Provided you picked up the slack around here, that is.”

“Oh, yes, yes, of course. Heaven won’t have even known you were gone at all.”

Aziraphale finally glanced at him, worry and anxiety written all over his face and body. “Are you...well are you sure you even can still do blessings?”

“Can I do blessings?” Crowley said. Aziraphale nodded, eyebrows rising a bit. “Angel, I could bless the hat off of any ol’ saint. Just watch.”

Crowley pointed to a bush that was sitting under the trees next to them. It was a terrible little bush, all brown and wilted, half of its leaves scattered about the floor. He waved his hand in the direction of it and the leaves floated back up to the branches, the brown turning golden before settling on a vibrant and lush green. 

More than that, however, was the single red rose, in full bloom, that sprouted from the top at the edge closest to Aziraphale.

“A rose bush,” Aziraphale said, absolutely enchanted by the thing. He smiled at it, beaming as he had at all the plants Crowley had made back in the garden. “How marvelous.”

“Uh, yeah.” Crowley scratched at his head, he hadn’t meant to make a rose bush. Just wanted to liven the thing up a bit. But hey, whatever works, it got Aziraphale interested so that was something.

“Oh, may I?” Aziraphale asked, hand already reaching out to pluck the flower.

“Of course,” Crowley said, putting on a smile. “Take it. Maybe it’ll remind you that I’m actually quite good at what I do.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that.”

They smiled awkwardly at each other then Aziraphale cleared his throat, looking away. “Best be getting off then,” he said. “Do try and not burn the place down while I’m gone.”

Crowley smirked at him. “You know it’s best not to make promises you can’t keep.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, smiling a bit, and turned to leave. He tucked the rose gently in his coat pocket. Neither of them knew it yet, but the rose he carried would not dull in time, nor would it wither away as all flowers do. It would remain full, open, and vibrant for many, many years to come. Aziraphale would carry it around with him for a while, then keep it in a little vase in the back room of his shop once he opened it. Whenever he would look at it, he would see it as a reminder that, as long as the flower remained, Crowley really was, at heart, a bit of a good person.


	3. Arbutus

Lovely humans, Crowley thought, as he walked along the path of the park. Lovely humans and their lovely affinity for attaching meaning to everyday objects. Take flowers, for example. Crowley had always enjoyed plants, but he hadn’t really put much thought into them other than ohh they’re pretty to look at. 

Humans, however, had looked at flowers, had given them as gifts and as tokens of affection for years. It astonished him. He had just spent the last hour in a flower shop, browsing their index cards, learning about all the different meanings to each bud. He learned that roses meant love and affection. He blushed a bit, remembering the rose bush he had made for Aziraphale, but he did have some affection for the angel, although love might have been taking it a bit too far.

Either way, they were meeting in the park that afternoon to discuss some details. Crowley had successfully managed to forget all about what he learned in the shop, about roses and their meanings, until he saw Aziraphale waiting for him beneath a grove of trees. It was a particularly sunny day and the angel was waiting in the shade, not even wearing a jacket. It made Crowley’s heart stop but he couldn’t let on like that.

“I’ve been wondering,” Aziraphale said, as they stood by the trees and watched the humans walking by in the park. “Have you ever considered it?”

Crowley closed his eyes. “Considered what?”

“Having a relationship with a human,” Aziraphale said.

“What like...sex?”

“No! Well, that would be part of it, I assume.” Aziraphale sighed. “I meant a real relationship. Like togetherness and commitment and all that.”

Crowley leaned on his walking cane and looked over the crowd of people. “Nah,” he said. “They’re fun for a good while, I suppose. But there’s no point to it. They’ll all just be gone sooner or later.”

“Ah, yes. That is true. I-oh, dear. You’re doing it again.”

Crowley looked over at him but Aziraphale was looking up at the trees. They had started to sprout these little purple and white flowers, following each other in lines and connections.

“I do hope no one noticed,” Aziraphale said, eyes still glued to the wonderful little flowers. “What are they?”

“Arbutus,” Crowley said, equally mesmerized by their appearance. He remembered something about them, some meaning the humans had ascribed to it…  
Crowley’s eyes shot wide open and he felt his entire body flush. No. No. It wasn’t like that. He hadn’t meant to grow those.

“Sorry,” he said, already turning to leave. “I have to go. Important demon business you know.” He scurried off.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called after him, frowning a bit as he ran. “Ah, well.” he turned back to the trees and reached out, taking a few of the flowers with him.


	4. Yellow Tulip and Stock

Crowley took a deep breath and straightened his coat. It was the grand opening of Aziraphale’s bookshop and he was there to offer him support. He had grabbed a little box of chocolates on his way over, after all, it was a time to celebrate and Aziraphale did love his sweets. He held a hand to the door, ready to open it, but he felt like he was missing something.

Vines started to creep up around the sides of the doors. Of course. Flowers, he was missing flowers. Well, there’d be no trouble finding them here, seeing as yellow tulips and stock were growing in abundance along these vines that miraculously sprouted up. He grabbed a bunch of each, whipping up a little wrap to hold them all together.

He vaguely recalled what the humans meant in these flowers, something about smiles and beauty. Well, it was certainly much less embarrassing than the Arbutus. He opened the door, delighted to find that there wasn’t anyone else in the shop. He was sure Aziraphale would be just as pleased.

Aziraphale appeared from the backroom to check and see who had rung the bell above the door. “Crowley,” he said, smiling. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Thought I’d drop in,” Crowley said, feeling a little foolish with his gifts now that Aziraphale was standing there. “Here.”

Crowley held out the box and the bouquet to Aziraphale. The angel took them delicately from his hold, his face soft as he studied them.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go and do that,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Big, fancy occasion,” Crowley told him, clearing his throat a bit. “Figured it was appropriate.” Except now it didn’t feel all that appropriate at all. 

“They’re lovely,” Aziraphale said, taking in the scent of the flowers. “As always.”

Aziraphale smiled over at Crowley, his eyes full of adoration. That must have been why the tulips popped up, Crowley figured. With a smile as radiant and beautiful as that, how could they not?

“Well,” Crowley said, already stepping back a bit to beat a hasty retreat. “Good luck with the shop and all that.”

“Oh, won’t you stay?” Aziraphale asked, taking that step forward. “Have some tea? Or wine? I have wine.”

Crowley could feel his heart beating against his chest. That had never really happened before. He was vaguely aware of his heart’s existence, but now it was demanding to be heard. It was pounding forward, pounding towards Aziraphale saying, “stay, stay, you idiot, stay!”

“Well,” Crowley said, glancing at his watch as if he had somewhere else to be. “I suppose I could stay a little while.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Aziraphale smelt his flowers again. “Let me just go and find a spot for these.”

Crowley trailed after him, his heart always beating in the direction that Aziraphale went.


	5. White Violets/Striped Carnation

They had miracled their way into his garden. Crowley stood there, staring at them. It was Monday, two days since the world was supposed to end, and there was a new flower hiding among his plants that he didn’t remember making. A whole collection of white violets were staring back at him. 

He blinked at them. “No,” he said softly. He raised an eyebrow and looked around at the rest of the room. “You hear me?” His voice grew louder. “No.”

The rest of the plants in the room started to shake, but the violets kept growing, kept blooming until they were taking over a whole corner of the room.

“You stop that,” Crowley said, pointing a finger at it. “It’s not happening.”

The flowers didn’t seem to believe him. 

“Right, fine then. If that’s how you want it.” Crowley left the room and returned with a pair of sheers. The other plants went still, the room a deafening quiet. The violets continued to bloom. “Have it your way.”

Crowley stepped up to the plant and started hacking away, still fully bloomed violets falling to the ground. But it seemed that for every bud Crowley chopped off, two more would grow in its place. There were too many of them by the time Crowley grew tired and dropped to the floor to catch his breath.

“Alright!” he said as the flowers started to reach out, growing along his limbs. “You win!”

Crowley picked out a dozen of the violets, only the best for Aziraphale, and shrugged the others off. “I expect this mess gone by the time I get back!” he shouted, for good measure, as he grabbed his coat and left the apartment.

-

The bookshop had a few stragglers wandering around, browsing the books that Aziraphale would never let them buy. Crowley thought about going away, coming back when the shop was closed and the two of them could be alone together. But it was too late, Aziraphale had already spotted him and was bouncing over, smiling that smile at him that made Crowley’s knees go weak.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “How wonderful to see you.”

“I, uh, brought you these.” Crowley sort of forced the bouquet into Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, looking the flowers over. “Everything you grow is simply so lovely,” he said.

Crowley kept his head facing Aziraphale so it would look like he was looking at him, but he glanced to the side of the room underneath his glasses. He could feel his face flushing and he hoped to death no one noticed. He worriedly glanced around to the customers as Aziraphale admired the flowers. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying them much mind.

“I have something for you, too,” Aziraphale said. “Wait here.”

Crowley watched with nervous breath as Aziraphale disappeared into the back room. When he returned, he was carrying a box where the violets used to be. He handed it to Crowley.

Crowley looked at the box with a slightly open mouth. Aziraphale had never really gotten him a present before. He had bought dinners and lunches, sure. But a present? Crowley licked his lips and opened the box.

Inside was a carnation.

A striped carnation.

Crowley’s face fell, and with it, his heart. He couldn’t feel it beating, and he was pretty sure it had just stopped trying. It just hung there, dead in his chest, unmoving and unfeeling.

“Well?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley gathered the energy to look up at him. The angel was looking at him with an expectant face. Crowley slowly closed the box.

“I should go,” he said, whispered really.

“Crowley?”

But the demon had already left, giving no indication that he heard Aziraphale calling after him at all.


	6. White Hyacinth/Mistletoe

Aziraphale frowned as he wandered to his backroom after closing up shop for the day. He wondered if he should call Crowley. Something did seem to have been the matter when he was there. Aziraphale sat down by his desk, reaching for the phone when he gasped, startled by the sight before him.

The rose was wilting.

He stood up, grabbing it from the top of the desk and looking it over. Panic gripped at him. How could this have happened? Was he doing something wrong? Had he put too much water in the little vase, was it getting too much sun?

Aziraphale held it tight and raced over to the computer. He found a website that claimed to have information about keeping roses alive. He scanned through the detailing information until he read one sentence that made his heart stop.

Apparently, not only were there different colors of roses, as Aziraphale already knew, but there was also a human tradition of giving them to others to say something. Aziraphale blinked, re-reading what he had read. 

‘Red roses are a popular declaration of love, a single, fully-bloomed red rose being the highest level of declaration there is.’

Aziraphale sat back in his chair and looked at the rose. No. It couldn’t be. He thought, do other flowers mean things as well?

He looked back through his time with Crowley and decided he’d check, just in case.

The first flowers he had grown were in the garden. Those beautiful, lovely colors. Aziraphale looked them up and nearly choked.

‘Gloxinia, a common symbol of love at first sight.’

Aziraphale shook his head. No. It had to be a mistake. It had to. Or a strange coincidence is all.

‘Arbutus- thee only do I love.’

Aziraphale forgot how to breathe. He could feel heat rising up all over his body. He typed with a fierce fury he didn’t even know he had. 

‘Yellow Tulips- There’s sunshine in your smile’  
‘Stock- You'll always be beautiful to me’

Aziraphale sat back in his chair, feeling a bit sick from all the heat creeping over his skin. He glanced over the bouquet of new flowers he had forgotten to put into a vase. He feared knowing the answer.

‘White Violets- Let’s take a chance on happiness’

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his heart melting a little. “I’d love too. If only you hadn’t run off and- Oh no! No, no, no, no, no!”

Aziraphale found a page about carnations. His eyes ravaged over the screen, looking for the different colors. “Let’s see...red, well it was a bit of red, but also some white and...ah yes! Here we are. Stripped.” His face dropped. Everything went still in and around him. 

‘Striped Carnations- A rejection or refusal.’

“Oh my. What have I done?”

-

Aziraphale pounded on Crowley’s door, already out of breath from running first to the flower shop and then to here. Crowley didn’t answer at first. Aziraphale knocked again. “Crowley, I know you’re in there. Please open the door!”

It opened immediately. Crowley stood on the other side, staring at Aziraphale with an expression he couldn’t quite read with the demon’s eyes hidden behind his glasses. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said. He caught his breath a bit and straightened up, fixing his tie a bit. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, his voice slow and deliberate. “What are you doing here.”

“I didn’t know,” Aziraphale said, holding the flowers he had bought out to Crowley. “I didn’t know they meant anything, I thought they were just flowers.”

“Wha-”

“I just saw someone selling them as I was walking to the shop today and I thought they were awfully lovely and gorgeous and you seemed to like flowers so much I thought you’d like one. I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t mean it!”

Crowley looked down at the flowers, taking them gently from Aziraphale’s tight grip. 

“Purple hyacinth,” Aziraphale said. “I’m so sorry, Crowley. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Crowley’s face shimmered a bit. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why is your rose wilting?”

“My what?”

Aziraphale sighed in exasperation and pulled the box out of his coat pocket. He had placed the rose gently inside, surrounded by some light foam, but it did little to stop it’s turn towards brown and weepy.

“Is that-”

“Yes! It’s the one you gave me all the way back when we started the whole agreement business.”

“And it’s been alive all this time?” Crowley asked.

“Right up until this afternoon. Please, Crowley. I do, I do want to take a chance on happiness. And I want to take it with you.”

“With me?”

“Yes.”

“Even after everything?”

“Especially after everything.”

“Angel…”

Crowley took the box from Aziraphale and set it and the other flowers on the little table by the door. He reached one hand out and placed it against Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale closed his eyes, breathing deep as he leaned into the touch. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking up at the door frame.

Crowley followed his gaze, spotting the mistletoe that was now, miraculously, hanging there.

“I, uh,” he blushed, his face turning red. “I didn’t do that.”

“I know,” Aziraphale said. “I did.”

The two looked at each other again. Aziraphale smiled his yellow-tulip-smile and there was nothing left in Crowley to stop him from leaning over and kissing him.

Neither of them noticed yet, but as they kissed, the rose in the box started to heal. It returned to it’s natural, vibrant, joyous self. Just as it had always been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you liked it!  
> Also, I have a discord for Good Omens fic writers and readers if you'd like to join <3  
> https://discord.gg/ApAEX9Q


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